


Don't Feed the Plants

by Catipurr



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Little Shop of Horrors (1986)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Musicals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catipurr/pseuds/Catipurr
Summary: With Charles and Delia out for a work event, it's just been the Maitlands, Lydia, and a certain rat-bastard for nearly a week after their adventure in the RoS. Tension grows between the married couple as Adam tries to keep order, going as far as to get Beetlejuice back on his feet through the power of plant therapy (or something). Anything to get Lydia's mind off of her semi-conscious friend, though, Adam didn't expect to trade demons for a mean green, outer-space mother--yeah, you get it.
Relationships: Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Audrey Fulquard/Seymour Krelborn, Beetlejuice/Adam Maitland, Lydia Deetz & Adam Maitland & Barbara Maitland
Comments: 26
Kudos: 68
Collections: Fanfiction Writers United Musical Collection, Favorite Beetlejuice Writings, General musical based fics, Musical Fanfiction





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, golly, here we go again. Let's see what silliness myself and my bffff forever came up with THIS time~ This is a continuation of my first story, "I Dream of Dead Mom"--read that first to know what's going on~!

Adam was well-used to the assortment of quirks that came with this house. It was half the reason he’d bought it all those years ago; there was just nothing quite like it on the market. The basement bathroom, for instance, tended to gurgle at exactly 3:17 am, every night without fail, sending the pipes into a musical clattering. One of the pantry doors had to be opened at just the right angle, making it a great spot to hide his sweets stash from a certain, candy-loving wife (a moot point, now that they could go through walls). And then there were the floorboards.  
Oh, the floorboards.  
Every single plank made the most distinctive squeak; he could tell when someone was headed downstairs or making a midnight snack in the kitchen. Which was why he knew, the moment he heard that low, drawn-out squeal, that someone was pacing around the living room.

Again.

Adam loved his wife more than anything in the world. More than antiques, strawberry ice cream—he’s even forgone the illustrious beard he could grow, just for her sake. But, in his semi-sleep deprived state, his warm pillow and heavy comforter were leagues above her. “Barbaraaa...”

“Adaaam…” His wife moaned back.

“You-know-who is up,” Adam stated simply. 

Barbara let out a huge yawn, doing her best to rub the sleep out of her eyes as she rolled to her side. “It’s probably just D-Delia sleepwalking again,” she said. 

Adam sat up slowly, reaching for his glasses (which liked to float around his head all throughout the night). “She’s not here, remember? She and Charles are still at that big-wig convention for his company.” He slid them gingerly onto his face, squinted, then took them back off to rub against his pajama sleeve. “It was _that_ noise, anyway.” 

Barbara gave him a look. “How can you _possibly_ tell the difference?”

He would’ve told her how hard it was to forget the groan that split the boards beneath their feet. How it stuck in his head, even today, chorusing with their screams as they fell into the basement. This was entirely too morose for a still-groggy wife, though, so Adam just offered a smile and a shrug.

Barbara buried her head into her pillow, letting out a loud, grumbling moan that vaguely sounded like ‘Lydia’.

“I know, I know.” Adam took the opportunity to practice his ghostly powers, his free hand stretching and becoming more ethereal in appearance. It took a whole heck-of-a-lot of concentration, but eventually, his semi-dismembered hand managed to flip on the light switch. ‘Gosh, Barbara makes that look so easy…’  
Their cozy-little attic flooded with light, somewhat cleaned out after the great, Goodwill Purge (a more wholesome option for their stuff than just burning or smashing it). It was hard to believe it’d been only two months, and already, the space looked so much more like theirs. A few walnut Chippendales were set up around an English Oak coffee table, lovingly polished by Adam himself, once he got the hang of holding material things for longer than three seconds. A particular handbook, dog-tagged at the corners, sat in the middle of the table, a half-empty cup of tea beside it and some required reading for Lydia’s junior year. Even the bed was specially purchased with the duo in mind, perfectly fitting the aesthetics of the home when it was under their ownership.  
It was nice to take it all in. For a brief moment, anyway, until his wife’s grumbling pulled Adam back in.

“One, whole week,” Barbara mumbled into her pillowcase.

Adam rested a reassuring hand on his wife’s back. “I know.” 

“A _week_ , Adam! That’s seven days of no-sleep-- _literally_ catching my head as it floats away, thinking of all the awful things that could happen to Lydia while he--he--!” As if cued, Barbara’s head began lifting off the bed, leaving a vaguely face-shaped indent behind within the pillow’s casing.

Adam quickly reached upward, cradling his hands around Barbara’s cheeks as he gently led her head back downward. “Hey, it’s been okay so far, right?”

Barbara refused to let go of her scowl. “Only because a certain _someone_ has been mostly catatonic on the couch.” 

“Oh, boy, that’s a look.” Adam smiled sympathetically, bringing his wife’s face closer to his. Come on, honey; you’ve run enough doomsday scenarios to fill a book.”

Barbara huffed, her body sitting up as the arms crossed over her chest. “I just know something’s going to happen once he’s better. And then what? Is it just, ‘back to business’ with those two? Black and white stripes everywhere, screams in every room, and God help him if he gets his little, wormy hands on our handbook again—!”

“Barbara,” Adam’s grip was a gentle, but firm, as he could muster. Knick-knacks had already begun drifting in the air, the ends of Barbara’s hair beginning to spark. They stared into each other’s eyes, him fighting to stay calm, concerned, but rational, as her's raged with an unyielding fury. 

She stopped, taking a deep breath as everything—hair and fragile valuables—settles back in place. “I just want her to be safe.” A soft whimper escaped Barbara’s lips. “God, Adam, I’d do anything for that girl.”

“I know, but,” He gently nuzzled Barbara’s nose with his, smiling. “Lydia doesn’t need us losing our _heads_ right now.” 

Even through her deadpan expression, a chuckle slipped out of Barbara. “I think Beetlejuice’s extended stay is getting to both of us.”

The two shared a look. Sighed.  
Holding his wife’s head in hands, Adam really took in how much stress the week had caused. Anytime Barbara and Beetlejuice were in the same room, something was inevitably going to break. She’d tried so hard to put bad interactions in the past, but it was hard to be cordial to the man who nearly exorcized her out of existence. And, sure, they’d all pulled together in the Realm of Subconsciousness, but the adrenalin was gone, now. There were just a lot of messy, messy feelings to be worked through, now. 

“A whole week,” Barbara repeated as she held her hands outward to her head. 

“Yeah.” Adam carefully placed it back onto her neck. He swallowed, hating what he was about to offer, but knew it had to be done. For the sake of his wife’s sanity. “Hey, honey? I’ll go talk to Lydia; you try and get back to sleep, okay?”

“By yourself?” Barbara looked even more awake now. “Oh, Adam, I dunno. What if Beetlejuice,”

“It’s like you said,” Adam quickly cut her off. “He’s partially conscious, at best. Besides,” he added, puffing out his chest. “I’m a Maitland 2.0, baby! I can handle myself around that pervert now.”

One eyebrow rose on Barbara’s face. 

Adam’s chest deflated slightly. “A-And anyway, I can bring up school with Lydia! It’s just around the corner, and, you know, with all the work we’ve been doing together on her book report, I figure I’m the best one to use that reasoning against her. Can’t keep up her grades if she’s staying up all night, and, well, one of Charles’ terms was that she had to,”

Barbara smiled, embracing her husband in a tender hug. “Alright Adam, alright. I’ll stay up here, maybe do some reading to try and get back to sleep.”

“Really?” Adam pulled away, arms still wrapped around his wife’s waist. “I mean, great! I’ll take care of Lydia, no problem.” 

“Sounds good.” Barbara pressed her lips gently against his. “I love you, yah goofball.”

“You too, lovebug.” 

\---

This had ‘dumb idea’ written all over it. In no way, shape, or form, did Adam feel comfortable confronting Beetlejuice on his own. Back then, during the wedding--whatever bravery he’d felt had been fueled by a fear of losing everything. Now, it was just him and _him._  
“That’s not true.”  
Lydia was down there, and her sleep schedule was in peril. With a nod, a straightening of his back, and a quick glance behind him to confirm that, yes, he was already too far down the stairs, Adam’s legs dissipated as he drifted the rest of the way down.  
The living room was dimly lit from the fireplace, a small, crackling flame being carefully tended to. It was odd to see, at first, but Charles tended to be stingy with the thermostat. It was very possible that the house was a bit chilly, not that Adam could really feel it. Sitting on either side were the silhouettes of the deranged duo themselves--Lydia, dressed in her nightgown and to the left, while the vague shape of Beetlejuice stuck out from a mound of blankets on the right--playing what looked to be a game of Uno. The pair were in deep concentration, having not even noticed Adam walk (float) in. 

“You’re totally screwed,” Lydia grinned, slapping down a green two. “That’s a color change, good sir, and ‘Uno’from me.”

Beetlejuice leaned forward, his face barely poking through what Adam realized was he and Barbara’s special, Mexican blanket. “What?! How long were you holdin that?”

“Literally the whole game,” Lydia cackled, watching the demon’s cards with interest. “ _Whaaat? _I thought you liked the color green?”__

__“Not as much as the sound of sweet, sweet victory. Bam!” Beetlejuice threw down his green card with such force, the flames themselves flickered in protest. “Reverse Card, bitch~!”_ _

__“Beej--!” Lydia’s laughter escalated as the two suddenly lifted off the ground, spinning past each other as they switched spots._ _

__“But wait! There’s a sequel!” He then dropped another reverse card--red this time--worm-like tongue darting gleefully as the two spun around again. “Reverse Card; Garbage Day.”_ _

__Lydia snickered, hair in complete distress as she nearly toppled over. “H-How am I supposed to play if I can’t see straight?”_ _

__“Hey, someone _finally_ figured out how I win at card games,” Beetlejuice replied. _ _

__It was hard not to crack a smile. For a moment, Adam allowed himself to lean against the archway, simply content with the two and their antics. They were so easily amused, and for once, it wasn’t at the expense of someone else’s sanity. It was something he wanted to see--believed could happen--if only all the unspoken grief could get aired out._ _

__“Adam?” Lydia called out curiously, eventually giving up and flopping over on her side. “Sorry, did we wake you up?”_ _

__“What? Oh, no,” Adam shook his head, making his way over slowly. “Just restless, I guess.” He glanced over at Beetlejuice, who only tightened his grip around the Mexican blanket. “I....take you're enjoying the blanket, Beetlejuice?”_ _

__He nodded. “You could say it’s crossed the borders and found permanent, if not somewhat illegal, residency.”_ _

__“Beej, that was bad,” Lydia giggled. “But, accurate. He might end up stealing that blanket if you’re not careful, Adam.”_ _

__“I’ll keep that in mind.” Adam awkwardly sat between the two, trying to decide between cross-legging it or just going for his knees. He ended up with a weird mix of both, legs folded around his side as his arms helped support his upper body._ _

__“Quite the feminine posture,” Lydia commented off-handedly._ _

__“Aww, he’s so lady-like~!” Beetlejuice sneered, shrugging off just enough blanket so his wild mess of hair was visible now. “I can complete this look, too--always thought you could rock a knee-length anyway, you sexy,” The demon paused, looking suddenly winded. Whatever streaks of green were in his hair faded considerably, the tips briefly flickering purple as he started to tip forward._ _

__“Beej!” Lydia’s arms shot out, trying her best to steady the demon. When it was obvious Beetlejuice would take her down, too, Adam stepped in, catching him by the shoulders as his hands maneuvered securely around his waist. Much to his surprise, Beetlejuice didn’t make any move to pinch him, grope him; he didn’t say so much as a peep._ _

__“He’s still this bad?” Adam asked, carefully pushing onto his feet with the demon securely in his grip._ _

__“I dunno. I thought he was getting better. We played like, four rounds,” Lydia’s hands recoiled to her side, tight against her chest as Adam laid Beetlejuice out on the couch. “I-I dunno. He’s not getting worse--I don’t think, anyway--but he’s not himself, you know?”_ _

__Adam hid the frown from Lydia; if he was 100%, the house wouldn’t quite be so in-order. He was glad for it, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. Even as that thought crossed his mind, Adam started to take it back as he looked the demon over. Beetlejuice didn’t really look too different after the impromptu rescue, aside from a change of clothes and a shower. But a hoodie and sweats didn’t hide the unusually pale skin, the visibly-labored breathing in his chest. Just those few parlor tricks knocked him out.  
“I...can’t imagine it’s easy to bounce back from being eaten,” Adam said carefully. “Something tells me a demon’s stomach acid isn’t the same as a human’s. Or a ghost’s,” he added afterward. “It’s not like the handbook gives a detailed list of instructions on what to do. Typically, if you’re grabbed, that’s kind of it.”_ _

__“Well, Beej doesn’t ‘kind of’ do _anything.”_ Lydia shuffled towards the couch, kneeling down so her hand could hold the demon’s. Unconsciously, his hand twitched, fingers curling slightly around her’s. “It’s all or nothing.”_ _

__She was right about that. “Lydia,”_ _

__“Look, I already got the lecture from Barbara, like, a hundred times this week,” Lydia’s head snapped upward; Adam wasn’t surprised at all that tears had already begun falling. “And school can suck it, as far as I’m concerned.”_ _

__Adam sighed. He sank down to the ground, opting to tuck in his knees this time as he draped an arm gently around Lydia’s shoulders. “Beetlejuice wouldn’t want you throwing everything away for him.”_ _

__“You mean like he did for me?” Lydia’s voice quivered, likely with a mixture of rage and guilt. Still, her head bumped up against Adam’s chest, stubbornly keeping her face trained to the ground. “I just want us to be okay. Why does one of us have to be in trouble all the time?”_ _

__Another sigh. Adam gathered the teen into a hug, patting her on the back as she let out a few frustrated sobs. “I’m sorry, Lydia. I really am. I know this is hard, but,” It was like a lightning strike to the back of the head. “Plants.”_ _

__“Wh-what?” Lydia pulled away, wiping her eyes furiously. “What about plants?”_ _

__“There was a bit in the handbook about it,” Adam explained, recalling the pages he’d read not days ago. “‘How to Make Sense of the Otherwise Unsensible’, I think is what the chapter was. It’s all about giving the recently deceased ways to detect demons who might cause harm. It’s actually quite fascinating, really; I learned a number of those sigils from that chapter, like the one we put on the broom--”_ _

__“Adam, focus!” Lydia clapped the sides of Adam’s face, eyes wide and hopeful. “What’s the bit about plants?”_ _

__“It--It’s one of the ways to tell if demons are in the household,” Adam explained. He gently pushed Lydia’s hands off his face, fixing his glasses that had since-gotten skewed. “All the plant life will start to wilt and dry, like its life essence, is being drained.”_ _

__“Wait, like in, ‘Oculus’?” Lydia eyed a still-sleeping Beetlejuice. “So he was serious about knowing the actor who, ‘played the mirror’.”_ _

__Adam shook that disturbing thought away. “Anyway, I think if we can assemble a mass amount of greenery, it could help speed up his recovery. Help shed whatever sickness that baku might’ve given him, or whatever he lost during his, uh, internal struggles.”_ _

__Lydia got that look in her eye, one that Adam had long-since associated with trouble. “Delia has dozens on the patio. We can just grab those real quick,”_ _

__“I was thinking we buy some?” Adam hastily suggested. “I don’t think Delia will be too happy to find her nursery killed off when she gets back.”_ _

__“If it helps Beetlejuice, I don’t care,” Lydia protested._ _

__“There are specific plants that work better than others,” Adam said. “And, as amazingly coincidental as this sounds, I actually have just the friend who can help with this. He’s a total flora expert, a collector of all sorts of exotic plants. If anyone can find the heartiest, most life-filled specimens, it’d be him. It’s just,” Adam’s confidence suddenly dropped. “Oh.”_ _

__“What?” Lydia asked. “If you’re about to tell me he’s dead, that’s not exactly a problem.”_ _

__“No, it’s just,” Adam began to rub his chin, not entirely thrilled with the plan he presented anymore. “He lives downtown, is all. The ‘rough’ part of town. That part of town Charles would be incredibly not-okay with you going to alone.” At Lydia’s pleading look, Adam let out one more, drawn-out sigh. “But, you’re gonna do everything to find it yourself, so it looks like I’m gonna have to come with you.”_ _

__“But, aren’t you bound to the house?” Lydia asked._ _

__Adam grinned from ear to ear. “Let’s just say this bookworm is about to become a social butterfly.”_ _

__Lydia stared at him for a second, then started to giggle. “You come up with that just now?”_ _

__“Heck no; I’ve been sitting on that one for weeks!” Adam said. “Now, scoot off to bed. We’ll leave tomorrow--when there’s light outside,” he added as Lydia opened her mouth. “I’ll hang out down here with Beetlejuice, make sure he’s okay.”_ _

__Lydia’s expression softened, a mixture of relief, pride, and what was likely a total of three hours of sleep. “Thanks, Adam. I’ll see you when the sun’s up, I guess.”_ _

__“Night, kiddo.”_ _

__As Lydia turned to head upstairs, she suddenly spun on her heels and wrapped her arms quickly around Adam. “Thanks for giving him a chance.”_ _

__All Adam could do was smile back, even if it wasn’t a confident--or completely honest--one._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Charles and Delia out for a work event, it's just been the Maitlands, Lydia, and a certain rat-bastard for nearly a week after their adventure in the RoS. Tension grows between the married couple as Adam tries to keep order, going as far as to get Beetlejuice back on his feet through the power of plant therapy (or something). Anything to get Lydia's mind off of her semi-conscious friend, though, Adam didn't expect to trade demons for a mean green, outer-space mother--yeah, you get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Adam makes a number of grand, new friends and earns a swell new nickname.

Possession was a fascinating, and far more extensive topic, then Adam had ever imagined. 

When Beetlejuice had done it to him and Barbara, it wasn’t the traditional, ‘spirit-goes-into-body’ sort of deal (Total Possession’, as the handbook called it), it was known as, ‘Puppeteering’. One of the easier methods of manipulating a breather, which wasn’t a surprise that it was the demon’s go-to.  
But there was a subsection to Puppeteering, one that took a good bit of sleuthing to find in the first place. After flipping through a number of pages, going back and forth between the index and the supposed correct number, Adam stumbled upon it; Vessel Procuration, an ability that let ghosts tie themselves to an inanimate object. Incredibly dangerous if done improperly, as quoted by the author of this particular section, a Mr. Charles, ‘Chucky’ Lee. 

Still, the idea of being able to leave the house fascinated Adam. The Maitlands could go on vacation with the Deetz’, join in on restaurant outings; heck, he would take a walk around the town at this point. He certainly loved this house, but never considered how long he’d have to spend in it. Plus, it’d be such a nice surprise for Barbara, once he could figure it out. But, and if he were to be honest with himself, he understood roughly 80% of the procedure.

Maybe 78%. 

But whether he was ready or not, Lydia was going to hop on the first bus downtown, with or without him. Some part of him reasoned that, if the object held great significance to him, perhaps he’d have an easier time attaching himself to it. So as Lydia shook him awake in what felt like mere hours later, Adam Maitland, more or less, had a plan of action.

“You really think your ring would still be in the basement somewhere?” Lydia asked as she stood on the top of the staircase. 

Adam nodded. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure our bodies were ever found. I just remember a blur of movers uprooting...the place.” he found himself choking on the last few words. God, the feeling was just as fresh as the day it happened. Helplessly watching strangers pull their identity apart and throw it to the curb; it wasn’t a feeling he ever wanted to experience again.  
And he didn’t have to. Just as long as he could keep the peace. 

“Well, the bus waits for no teenager, or accompanying ghost-dad.” Without hesitating, Lydia pushed the door to the basement open and started the descent. Each step was a terrible squeak under her shoes, sending Adam into tremors as he glided after. “You scared of the dark or something, Adam?”

“N-no, I just,” Adam choked down a scream as he yanked Lydia back up a few steps. From the few beams of light streaking from the kitchen, he swore he saw something slithering across the basement. Something big. Something striped. Something with two mouths and plenty of sharp teeth. “Lydia,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “Slowly, now. Get. Back. Upstairs.”

“What? Why?” 

Four pairs of yellow eyes stared out from the darkness, sizing the pair up hungrily. “Lydia,” Adam carefully pushed himself in front of the teen; he wished now more than ever that he had the handbook, but he’d just have to go by memory.  
And then Lydia walked straight through him, continuing down the stairs and straight for those eyes.  
“Lydia--!” Adam lunged forward just as the creature let out a hiss and followed suit. Already, his fingers were a blur, tracing what he feverishly hoped was a protective sigil to throw up between the teen and the creature. A flash of blue light illuminated the basement as a flatly-drawn ring exploded out from the palm of his hands, covered in squiggly lines and symbols from a time long since passed. The monster’s mouths smashed against the barrier, revealing what Adam had suspected it to be from the start. 

A sandworm. 

It let out an angry yowl, quickly backing into the corner of the basement as it began to let out something akin to whimpers. Lydia spun around, facing Adam with an unexpected scowl. “What’d you do that for?”

“Lydia, I know I don’t have to explain what that is to you!” Once more, Adam stepped in front of Lydia, hands crackling with electric-blue energy. “I-I have no idea how it got here, but just get out of here, alright? Go get Barbara, we can send it back to the Netherworld together,”

“Adam, it’s _Sandy.”_

The name didn’t register at first. “Sandy?” He looked back to the worm, who was still bunched up in the corner, looking as terrified as he did. “Wait, _that_ Sandy?”

“Yeah!” Lydia pushed past again, sending a shudder through Adam as she jogged across the basement. “Aww, poor baby. Did the mean ghostie hurt you?”

Sandy crooned, nuzzling a head twice as large as Lydia herself into the teen’s arms. 

“There, there. It’s okay; I got you some sweets to make up for it.” Lydia quickly fished around in her pajama pocket, a fistful of suspiciously-familiar candies held outward. 

“Wait, isn’t that my,” Adam start. 

“You owe her for nearly breaking her teeth.” Lydia said as the sandworm noisily slurped the sweets, wrapper and all. 

And like that, Adam realized how long and exhausting this day was going to be. “Okay, but, _why_ is Sandy here? Actually, wait,” his stomach then did a backflip, “How long has Sandy _**been**_ here? Have you been keeping this a secret from us this whole week?!”

“Beej was worried about her!” Lydia insisted. “She’s a literal monster back in the Netherworld, and the other demons and ghosts would’ve for-sure killed her for what she did to Juno.” The teen started stroking Sandy’s inner tongue-head, a rumbling purr coming from deep within her throat. 

“Sandy’s not exactly a newborn kitten,” Adam pointed out. 

“Yeah, but a whole _town’s_ worth of people isn’t a fair fight.” Lydia shot back. “Her and Beej aren't...exactly welcome back in their old place.”

Adam cautiously made his way down the steps, relieved that the sandworm remained docile. “Now that you mention it, Beetlejuice kept saying he was ‘banished’, but I never managed to get him to explain what that means.”

“Oh, his raging cow of a mother couldn’t _stand_ that he finally got his own place.” Lydia scoffed. “Some townhouse in the _Neitherworld_ district which, before you say anything,” she held up a hand. “Is, indeed, needlessly confusing.”

“Which is right up his alley, honestly,” Adam said. “But, you really think he was kicked out of an entire realm because his mother said so? That seems a little extreme.”

Lydia turned away from Adam completely, giving Sandy a quick squeeze around her snout. “I only knew Juno for a few minutes, and I wanted to move to a new country, just to get away from her. I can’t even imagine living with her for however-long BJ did.” 

That gave Adam pause. He wasn’t a fan of the few seconds he’d seen of Juno, either, but to do something like that to your own son? It seemed like such a foreign concept. He had fond memories of his Mom and Dad helping move him to University, exchange tearful good-byes as the academic year began; he even enjoyed the drive down for holidays, even if he hated driving as a whole. Sure, parents want their kids to stay close, but…

“Adam?” 

He blinked, Lydia’s hand waving across his face. “Ah, sorry. Lemme go see if I can find the ring.” He started across the basement, flinching as Sandy let out an angry hiss. “Can you, uh, make sure she doesn’t…?”

Lydia nodded, skipping back to Sandy’s side as she wrapped her arm back around the sandworm’s snout. Feeling a bit like a rabbit in a foxhole, Adam quickly scanned the ground, hoping for something to glint off the light so he could get the ring and get out.  
A pile of warped wood was stacked close to the center of the room, sitting right under what looked like an attempted patch job with different-colored planks on the ceiling. Obviously, they had been stained to match the floor above. The hole itself was big enough for two people to have dropped through; why no one had bothered to clear the original stack of wood, Adam couldn’t say. 

Lydia was suddenly behind him, realization quickly spreading on her face. “You okay?”

Adam didn’t hear her at first. All he could hear was that terrible creaking, a sound like a gun going off as the world just gave out beneath them. Looking at it from here, the fall itself wasn’t even that long. Not to a third-party observer, anyway. He closed his eyes, hands trembling at his side as it forcefully replayed in his head. The sudden dark. The look on Barbara’s face.  
Then, something heavy weighed down on his hand. 

“We should do something later,” Lydia’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I mean, I know you’re here, but just so you can...you know. So it’s official.” 

Adam just held the teen’s hand, the two standing there for a moment in silence. As if unnerved by the quiet, a monochrome-striped tail slunk through the ground, poking out from the woodpile as a small, glittering ring sat atop the tip of its tail. 

“Sandy agrees,” Lydia said softly. 

Adam nodded, carefully pinching the ring with his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah. I think Barbara would like that, too.” He gently lifted Lydia’s hand, palm facing upward, as he set the ring in her hand. Tiny, gossamer threads had already begun to stick to its surface as Adam nodded once more. “Let’s go take care of Beetlejuice, first. 

\---

Oh, it was weird. It was really, _really_ weird. It was like being a balloon on a very breakable string, leading Adam to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’d been a bit generous on his previous percentage. But they were here now, taking the bus straight downtown without so much as a glance back at the house.  
Lydia hadn’t stopped fidgeting with the ring since she’d put it on. It was painful to watch; she’d twisted it around her middle finger until it visibly started leaving a mark. Adam set a hand on her shoulder. She glanced up, nodding with a quick smile before her attention turned to the window. Better to stare outside than seemingly nowhere or--God forbid--at some unsavory individual. 

Finally, the bus came to a squealing stop. “Last call for Skid Row!” the intercom announced in a staticy cadence. 

“That’s us,” Adam said. “Let’s go.” He kept close to Lydia, both out of a protective need and that completely rational fear of breaking the tether. He watched her quickly dig out the bus fare and skipped down the stairs. The doors rudely snapped shut, tires catching against the unsteady asphalt as it drove away. 

Skid Row truly hadn’t changed at all since the last time Adam visited. Ancient, decrepit, in desperate need of some fresh mortar and signs with working light bulbs. It was looking at a photograph of the late 80s--the depressing parts, anyway--and already, he was reconsidering this plan.

Unfortunately, Lydia only seemed more determined than ever. She starting down the sidewalk like she owned the place, paying no heed to whoever she passed. 

“H-Hey--!” Adam felt his chest tug as he lurched forward, doing his best to try and match the teen’s speed. “Lydia, be careful. I don’t want our tether to accidentally break.”

“Sorry,” Lydia whispered under her breath. “I just wanna get moving. Harder to mess with a fast-walking target.”

“Well, a fast _walker_ is a bit suspicious-looking, you know.” Adam pointed out.

“No more than someone talking to themselves.” Lydia rounded the corner and kept going, keeping her head down and out of the way. 

Adam was suddenly relieved Charles hadn’t talked her into donating more rough-looking clothes; nothing like a drab-wool sweater, black skinny jeans, and a grimy pair of boots, to keep you hidden amongst a crowd of vagabonds. The thought was just reassuring enough to stop his heart from breaking through his ribcage. 

“So, what’s up with this place, anyway?” Lydia suddenly asked. “Daddy always said this neck of the woods was rough, but it seriously looks like someone came by and vacuum-sucked all the joy out of this place.”

“It used to be a central hub for car part manufacturing,” Adam explained, grateful for the distraction. “The owner moved his factories elsewhere, though, and this place never quite recovered from the fallout.” 

“And someone thought to open up a floral shop here?” Lydia shook her head. “Yeah, that won’t be hard to find. Just look for the only bit of color in the whole tri-state area.” 

“Y’all talkin bout that strange an’ in’nerestin plant?”

Adam’s neck nearly snapped at how fast Lydia spun around. Sitting one a chipped-up stoop were three black women, their ages ranging from early to late 20’s. They wore a collection of unimposing, but admittedly comfortable-looking clothes, dark hair either closely cropped, pulled back, or left to its own devices. 

“Dunno how yah couldn’t be,” one of them said. “It’s all anyone talks bout, lately. Don’t you agree, Crystal?”

“That’s right, Ronette,” Crystal grinned, inspecting her nails with a file in the other hand. “Ain’t that true, Chiffon?”

“Girl, you bet it is!” Chiffon took a swig from a colorful, aluminum can, before unceremoniously crushing it between her palm and the stone step. “Got some outta towners like yahselves comin just to see it. Flockin like a buncha seagulls to a’ old, crusty fry.”

“That fry come with barbeque sauce?” Lydia asked, one brow raised. “Only heathens use ketchup.” 

All three women let out a cackling laugh, hopping off their stoop as they started forward. “Ooh, I _like_ her!” Ronette began. “She’s got a snappy little trap, don’t she, Crystal?”

“She sure do, Ronette.” Crystal grinned. “And those bargin-bin threads are somethin else, ain’t they, Chiffon?” 

“Not somethin I’d be brave enough to wear.” Chiffon giggled. 

Adam was liking these three less and less, feeling the parental urge to verbally defend his adoptive daughter. Lydia, however, simply shrugged, pulling at the hem of the sweater as she did a little twirl. “Not everyone is as brave as me, I guess.”

“Ooooh, yeah, I _**like**_ her.” Ronette grinned, resting an arm over Lydia’s shoulder. “What’s yah name, Bargin-Bin?”

Nope. Absolutely not. Adam dropped down to Lydia, them face-to-face as he waved his hands. “Lydia, don’t you dare. I don’t like where this is headed one bit.” 

Then, much to both of their surprise, Ronette looked directly at Adam, her face scrunched up in irritation. “And where you think this is headed, pencil-neck?”

“P-pencil neck…?” Adam was too stunned to think of anything else to say. Did she actually respond to him, like she could hear him?

“Do we look like a gaggle of Victorian Secret sluts?” Crystal hissed, rounding around to Adam’s side as she gave him a shove--an actual shove. 

Adam stumbled back, hitting the wall as he shook his head furiously. “I-I would never suggest something like that!” 

“An’ here I thought we were the one’s in the guttah.” Chiffon stal walked straight up to him, the other two flocked around her side as she started cracking her knuckles. “Thassa dirty, dirty mind yah got there, ghost boy.” 

Was this actually happening? Adam was starting to wish he’d brought Barbara with him; she was so much better in these sorts of situations. But, no; he alone was facing these three, somehow able to see him and more than happy to get their hands on him. 

“He botherin you, Bargin-Bin?” Ronette craned her neck towards Lydia. 

“Ain’t nothin’ worse than a nosy ghost.” Crystal added. “We could rub ‘em out, if you want.” 

_“Please do not do that I have a wife,”_ Adam managed to stammer out.

“Yeah, he’s my Dad!” Lydia moved forward, pushing two of the three aside so she could stand between them and Adam. “Well, my second, and undead, Dad, but my Dad nonetheless.” 

The three women exchanged looks between each other, not looking entirely convinced. “He ain’t makin you say that?” Ronette began. 

“Yah can tell us,” Crystal added. “We been aroun’ the block a few times.”

“Ain’t scared ah no newly-dead.” Chiffon added. 

“No, he’s seriously part of my family.” Lydia reassured. “We live in that new gated community, the huge house on the hill?”

“Lydia,” Adam began, but the moment he tried to speak, the three women let out a squeal. 

“Wait, hol’ up!” Ronette said. “Y’all are the crew that scared all those breather’s shitless, ain’t they, Crysal?”

“Gotta be, Ronette.” Crystal said. “Them all came runnin outta that gen-er-al direction, didn’t they, Chiffon?”

“Sure did.” Chiffon hands settled on her hips, the other two following suit. “Shit, that was hilarious! I didn’t think no breather helped out with that.” 

“I may have had a personal hand it in.” Lydia grinned. 

“Daaamn. Bargin-Bin’s a badass.” Ronette said. 

“If Pencil-Neck’s cool with you, he cool with us.” Crystal added. 

“No hard feelins, right?” Chiffon asked, hand extended towards Adam. 

Part of Adam was afraid if he took her hand, Chiffon would just throw him over her shoulder and slam him on the ground. She certainly had the build to pull it off. Still, it was better to stay friendly, so he cautiously shook her hand. “N-None at all.”

“So are you three ghosts too, then?” Lydia asked, eyes wide with curiosity. “How’d you three end up dying?"

“Lydia, you can’t ask that!” Adam stammered out. “It--I mean, I think that’s probably rude, right?”

The three women let out another cacophony of laughter. “Shit, lookit you, Pencil-Neck! Stiff as yah namesake, huh?” Ronette asked. 

“It...my name is Adam.” Not that it really mattered, but Adam really didn’t want the term, ‘Pencil-Neck’ to be something Lydia picked up on. 

“Yeah, whatevah.” Crystal grinned. “And the answer, Bargin-Bin, is a big, fat,”

_“Hell_ naw!” Chiffon finished. “Ever heard of’fa muse, girly?”

Lydia shook her head. 

“Well, prolly for the best.” Ronette began. 

“Ev’ry one always gets our act wrong anyway,” Crystal added. 

“Sayin we’re some kind ah helpful Goddesses.” Chiffon finished. “Do we look like some celestial tightwads, Crystal?”

“Nu-uh, Chiffon,” Crystal said. “Just the classiest of demons to evah grace the world of the living, ain’t we, Ronette?”

“Goin wherever the tragedies are.” Ronette grinned; only now did Adam notice a row of particularly sharp teeth glinting behind her lips. “They got that bitter tang that coats the back of the throat, yah know?” 

It didn’t take a genius to see Lydia’s blood had begun boiling at the mere mention that these three were demonic in origin. Before she could inevitably piss off a whole other subsect of demon, Adam quickly cut in. “Well, we don’t want to keep you ladies from, ah, that ‘tang’, any longer than necessary. Maybe you can help us get out of your, um, collective hair quicker? We’re looking for a floral shop,”

“Yeah, so’s everyone else,” Ronette interrupted. 

“Y’all here to see the plant!” Crystal repeated. 

Adam frowned slightly. “Yes, you said that before. What plant are you talking about?”

The three women just exchanged another, albeit subtler, snicker between themselves. “Just head all the way down this here street,” Ronette began. 

“Swing past that there mural ‘ah Mr. Rogers,” Crystal picked up. 

“And you’ll find Mushnik’s Flower Shop.” Chiffon finished. 

“Oh, yes! That’s the place!” Adam quickly set his hands behind Lydia’s shoulders, pushing her quickly away from the three muses as he gave them a strained smile. “Okay, well, here’s us getting out of your hair! Thank you so much for your help, hope to see you again, good-bye!” He knew he was rambling at this point, but it was far better that Lydia didn’t get a chance to speak. Anything to avoid another RoS situation.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Charles and Delia out for a work event, it's just been the Maitlands, Lydia, and a certain rat-bastard for nearly a week after their adventure in the RoS. Tension grows between the married couple as Adam tries to keep order, going as far as to get Beetlejuice back on his feet through the power of plant therapy (or something). Anything to get Lydia's mind off of her semi-conscious friend, though, Adam didn't expect to trade demons for a mean green, outer-space mother--yeah, you get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Adam feels the true weight of his Ghost Dad title and meets some new--and old--friends.

Adam didn’t stop until he and Lydia were well past the mural of Mr. Rogers (a rather tastefully-done piece, much to his surprise). The teen eventually managed to shove his hands off her shoulder, just in time to nearly run head-first into a crowd of folks standing outside of the saddest-looking shop in Skid Row.   
And that was saying something.   
Adam blinked, not entirely used to the sight. Mushnik’s Flower Shop had never been anything special, especially back in the day. It’s why he’d enjoyed visiting so much; no kids at school to worry about socializing with, no bullies to try and avoid, no adults asking why he wasn’t doing after-school sports. It was just him, his best friend, and a whole bunch of strange and interesting plants said friend had collected that week. 

“So, we’re really just gonna let those three demons do whatever they want?” Lydia hissed, interrupting Adam’s train of thought. 

“What? Oh, I mean,” Adam grimaced, looking for an opening so they could get into the shop. “They weren’t exactly polite, but I don’t think they’re going to cause any trouble.”

“They literally said they go wherever tragedy is.” Lydia said. “How does that not fall under, ‘causing trouble’ in your book?”

It was strange to see the teen so heated over this. Adam drifted back down to the ground, making sure his attention was fully on Lydia now. “They only said they follow it, not cause it. And even if we did do something about it, I’m not sure what you and I could accomplish.”

“You don’t think we could take them?” Lydia asked. 

“With me as your backup? Absolutely not.” Adam said. “And before you say anything, that’s not me being hard on myself. Barbara’s more the offensive one between us. And besides,” he added, hoping to drive the point home. “Even _Beetlejuice_ had trouble with just one other demon.” 

That struck the nerve he'd wanted, but he didn't enjoy the results. Lydia immediately pulled away from him, back stiff and shoulders hunched. 

“L-Lydia,” Adam grimaced; time for take two. “You know I’d do anything for you, but this is just needlessly dangerous. And with how fragile our connection is,”

“It’s fine, Adam.” Lydia said curtly. “We’re here for Beej, anyway.” 

Adam hesitated for a moment, hand reaching halfway out to rest on Lydia’s shoulder. There was a note of finality in her voice, the kind she used where she was tired of trying to prove a point. For now, anyway.  
But she was right; they weren’t here to be vigilante demon slayers. They were here to get some plants. His hand ended up falling to his side. “Okay, well, follow me. I think I see a gap you can move through. 

\---

The inside was even _more_ crowded, though most of the bodies were circled around what Adam had to admit was the biggest plant he’d ever seen. It looked to be some sort of venus fly trap, standing well over six feet tall with a pot that had to hold at least half a ton of topsoil. The floor sagged underneath the weight; a rather unnerving note that Adam took and stored for later use. 

“Christ, it’s _huge,”_ Lydia gasped. “What’s your friend feeding this thing, liquified steroids?”

Adam shrugged, catching sight of a banner hanging above it. “‘Audrey II’?” he said aloud. “Huh. Not exactly what I’d pick. Wonder where the name came from?”

“A mystery woman, perhaps?” Lydia asked. “Maybe your buddy’s got a not-so-secret crush.”

Before Adam could respond, the squeakiest, high-pitched voice either had ever heard piped up from the cashier’s desk. “Oh, new customers! Can I help yah find somethin?” They both turned to greet the voice, finding it belonging to a platinum bob with breasts practically spilling out of a leopard-printed dress. Her face was covered in heavy amounts of make-up, though all things considered, she seemed to be wearing it pretty well. Large, puppy-like eyes greeted the two as, once more, the piccolo-like voice came out of her mouth. “Oh! Or, ah, are yah here tah see the Audrey II?”

Adam glanced over at Lydia. The teen had a smile as wide as Texas, clearly fighting to hold down a fit of giggles. She raised her finger, mouth opening for what Adam was sure was some zinger about the poor woman’s voice. His hand quickly pushed down on her’s, giving Lydia his patented, ‘disapproving Dad’ look. Barbara had been helping him practice for weeks, and he was certain he got it down. Much to his delight, Lydia backed down, albeit after giving him a brief, sour look. 

“Hi, there,” Lydia began, adopting her usual sugary-sweet tone when meeting new adults. “We’re actually here to see someone.” She then paused; only now did Adam realize he’d never told her the name of his friend. 

“Oh!” the woman’s voice chirruped excitedly. “You’re here to see Seymour, aren’t yah?”

Lydia looked to Adam for confirmation; he nodded quickly. “Lucky guess.”

“Not really,” Audrey covered her cheeks with her hands, a tinge of pink showing between her fingers. “All kinds ‘ah people are comin tah see him nowadays! Seymour’s gotten so famous; he got to talk on the radio, you know? Lots of folks come in now to ask questions, or,” she gestured to Audrey II with a long, painted nail. “To see his strange an’, ah, in’nerestin plant.” 

“So I’ve heard.” The slightest grimace crossed Lydia’s face before switching back to pleasant; it was almost scary how easily she could facade emotions. Adam made another mental note. “Cute name for it, too. Where’d he come up with it?”

The woman’s face only flushed harder. “Ooh! Well, he named it after me.”

“Get out of here,” Lydia gasped. “So _you’re_ Audrey the First?”

The kid knew how to put on a show. Living with her for two months, Adam could tell between genuine surprise and her mock-enthusiasm. 

“Ah, just Audrey’s good ‘nuff fah me.” She held out her hand, to which Lydia happily took it. “And what’s your name, little miss?”

“‘Little miss’.” Adam scoffed. “If only she knew.”

Lydia’s smile remained. “Lydia Deetz, at your service.”

“Deetz?!” One of the back doors suddenly flew open as a well-dressed man came stumbling through. If Adam knew Charles was an only child, he could’ve easily mistaken the man for a long-lost brother. Well-dressed, a groomed mustache, the build of a gorilla (though perhaps not the muscle of one); it was bizarre how similar the two were. The man nearly flipped over the countertop with the force he hit it with, staring at Lydia like he’d just found a $100 on the ground. “Y-Y-You’re a Deetz?!”

“Yeah?” Lydia shot Adam a look, who gave it right back. 

“H-He's just enthusiastic," Adam began, hand rising from his side. "But I'll puppet him if it starts to get weird." 

Thankfully, the man remained behind the counter, although his profuse sweating did not do any favors to Adam. “Y-Your father is Charles Deetz, isn’t he?”

“What’s it to you?” Lydia asked. 

The man took out a handkerchief, dabbing his forehead as he caught his breath. “Audrey, go check the back, would yah? We’re almost out of tulips.” 

“Ah, sure, Mr. Mushnik.” Before Audrey left, she gave Lydia a small wave. Both her and Adam returned it, the equal feeling of dread overcoming them as they were left alone with this man--with Mr. Mushnik. Adam had fuzzy memories of the man, mostly because his time had been spent in the basement with Seymour. For this interaction alone, he was thankful for that. 

“I’m sorry for being so intrusive,” Mr. Mushnik began. “It’s just--Charles Deetz was one of my best customers back in the day. He’s the reason this place stayed afloat for as long as it did. Well, not that we’re struggling now,” he gestured to the packed shop with a grin. “B-but still! To think his kid grew up to be so lovely; he and Emily really knew what they were doing.” 

Lydia fought to keep her expression pleasant. Adam, however, could show as much disdain as he wanted--one of the perks of being a ghost. One of his hands rose, thin strands already reaching towards Mr. Mushnik.

“Give it a minute.” Lydia hissed under her breath. 

“What was that?” Mr. Mushnik asked. 

Lydia’s grin widened as she turned to face Mr. Mushnik fully. “Oh, I said it’s been a minute! Since, uh, Daddy talked about you.” She frowned slightly, perhaps letting some of her own discomfort get through as naturally as possible. “Sorry, but I can’t say _I_ remember you.”

“Ah, kid,” Mr. Mushnik looked wounded. “I guess you were pretty small back then. I visited your place once with his usual order--a bouquet of daffodils, primroses, and,” he made a slight face. “Dandelions, if you’d believe it. Not sure who would want weeds in their arrangement, but anything for my best--and only--customer back then.” 

Lydia’s expression lit up immediately. “That’s the arrangement Daddy used to get for Mama!”

“Twice a year, for Valentine’s Day and their anniversary.” Mr. Mushnik grinned. “So, how are the lovebirds, anyway? I haven’t gotten Charles’ special order in years. He didn’t kick the bucket on me, did he?”

Adam grimaced as Lydia’s shoulders stiffened. He put a hand over it, sending as much warmth as he could while she visibly relaxed. “Ah, no. Mama actually passed a few years back.”

Mr. Mushnik’s face turned white. “Oh, I-I’m sorry, kid. I was just--I didn’t--”

Lydia waved a hand. “It’s cool, don’t worry about it.”

It was not cool and Adam knew it. Still, it was good to see her taking it in stride. Lydia really had grown a lot the past two months. And in the RoS. And this week--lots of good growing all around. 

“But, you know,” Lydia began. “I’ve got a great new stepmom who would probably love to reignite the tradition.” 

Adam couldn’t tell if Mr. Mushnik looked happy to have avoided such a social faux-pas, or excited to have a consistent customer once more. It was that fact, and that fact alone, that the ghost dad kept this puppeting fingers at the ready. “O-of course! I’ll have Audrey whip something up for you, free of--ah--at a discount!”

Adam rolled his eyes while Lydia nodded. “Sounds great! So, while she’s making that, do you think I could talk to Seymour?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you want, kid.” Mr. Mushnik craned his neck, yelling to Audrey to ‘make something pretty for the Deetz’ girl’ before starting towards what appeared to be the basement door. He opened it with one, fluid motion, yelling twice as loud down the stairs. “Hey, Seymour! Someone’s here to see yah!”

Adam winced as a whole bunch of somethings smashed against the ground.

“Seymooour!” Mr. Mushnik shouted. “Don’t break the merchandise! We hardly have enough in stock for these customers!”

“S-sorry, M-M-Mr. Mushnik!” a voice called back up, followed by the sound of footsteps. 

Mr. Mushnik then turned to Lydia, smiling. “He’ll be here in just a minute. If yah need me, just holler--I’ll be in the back, making sure your bouquet is just right.” He vanished behind another door as the man of the hour finally made it up the last step.

Adam was certain he’d be ready for this. It wasn’t like he’d seen any of his past friends after his death (or had many to see), but he was positive he wouldn’t hit him as hard as it was right now. Seeing Seymour again was like a dagger to the heart; he looked almost the same as he did decades ago. A mess of curly hair hung over his forehead, perfectly framing his, well, huge pair of glasses frames, a sweater vest over a collared shirt, and khakis smeared with dirt he may or may not have spilled downstairs. It was a flash from the past; it hurt a lot more than Adam expected.

Or, it did, until Seymour looked straight at him and grinned.


End file.
